Crocodile Chips and Plastic Pots
by OperationBlueSky
Summary: Jack and the Doctor recieve a plastic pot filled with a mysterious goo. Then they get chips. PWP ensues. Jack/10 oneshot. I do not own anything.


Jack rummaged through the piles of worn books that lined the long wooden desk on one side of the room. The Doctor watched as Jack shook a couple of leather-bound volumes out and placed them to the side, turning and pulling himself to sit on the edge of the desk, his bright shirt showing off his handsome figure against the black stone wall behind him.

The room in which they were in belonged to the Great Alchemist of Alganndara. He was famous in these regions of space for the odd recipes he cooked up, each personally suiting his client. The Doctor had landed the Tardis there on a whim, as always, curious as to what the Alchemist might give him and Jack. The receptionist had told them to go through and wait for the Alchemist to turn up.

It was a few seconds before the Doctor realised he was staring, his eyes still lingering on Jack's strong, smooth figure. His mouth twitched, his gaze dropping to the book he held in his own hands. His eyes skimmed across the title. But he didn't read it. His mind was elsewhere. In fact, his mind was still on Jack, who was now flicking through a thick textbook.

The Doctor bit his bottom lip, trying to repress the urge to walk straight over there and kiss him hard on the mouth. He closed his eyes, trying to push the thoughts from his mind. Why was he thinking that? But – oh, what would a kiss with Jack be like? It could never be anything but wonderful. He began to imagine… Jack's hot lips on his own cool ones, pushing against each other, tongues thrust deep within each other's mouths, breaths coming short and quick; Jack hands on his body, one hand in his hair, the other trailing down to the Doctor's chest, lingering a while, then moving slowly downwards, then further down…

The Doctor chewed his tongue, pushing back a moan that was trying to escape. He gave a quiet gasp as he realised the effect his fantasies were having on him. Oh god, he was hard. Really hard.

The Doctor glanced up at Jack to see if he had noticed. No, his eyes were still fixed on the book he held in his lap. The Doctor's own book was still clutched in his hand, beads of sweat slowly dampening the leather cover and the Doctor became more and more aroused. He had to do something. Jack might notice, though. Oh, _god_.

The Doctor let his right hand slide down his chest. He imagined it was Jack, with his hot breath dancing along the Doctor's jaw line. The Doctor's closed eyes flickered as his hand reached the hardness that was straining against his already tight trousers. He couldn't stop himself. His lips parted and he let out a small moan, and then he gasped as he realised that Jack had looked up.

"Doctor?" Jack asked, not sure if the Doctor had said something.

"What?" the Doctor gasped, startled and skittish. "Didn't say anything." Jack's eyes flicked to the book that the Doctor held defensively in front of him. "Uh – go back to… reading." The Doctor said, his voice unsteady as he waved his hand vaguely in Jack's direction.

Jack cocked his eyebrow at the Doctor, a little grin spreading across his face. "Okay then," he said, and dropped his head, so most of his face was out of the Doctor's sight. But he didn't look away.

The Doctor relaxed a little. Jack hadn't noticed… he hadn't. He couldn't have. He turned away from Jack, at a right-angle to him, and he looked down. He was even harder than before. This was going to become unbearable if he didn't do something now. He could already feel the pressure burning into his mind. He had to do something. He had to… _now_.

He unbuttoned his trousers quickly and slipped his hand inside his boxers. He had to stay quiet. He couldn't make any noise. Jack would hear. He didn't want Jack to hear. That would be… well… _embarrassing_. His bit his lip hard as he started to rub himself. Oh, it felt _good_. Really, really good. He tipped his head back and opened his mouth a little, still repressing the increasing need to moan. Loudly.

Oh, crap. He hadn't repressed it. And he'd dropped the book. Jack was looking. Oh, well. Jack had already heard. No point stopping now.

"Ohhh god…" the Doctor breathed, rubbing faster and faster. Jack was still watching, hands clasped tight to the edge of the desk.

Jack slid to his feet and took three steps towards the Doctor. He was so close. He could reach out and touch him. God, did he want to. He'd been watching the entire time. And he himself was as hard as the Doctor.

Jack reached – and caught the Doctor's left arm, hanging limp at his side while the other thrusted furiously, each movement eliciting a sharp intake of breath or a groan from the Doctor. Jack took another step forward, his face a few centimetres from the Doctor's. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead and body to the Doctor's, mouth open, and the Doctor pushed back, his free hand reaching up Jack's body and entwining itself in Jack's hair. Jack wrapped his right arm around the Doctor's hip, the Doctor still moving his right hand beneath his unbuttoned trousers.

His moans were getting louder. Jack moaned with him, quietly at first, but as the Doctor pressed an open mouth against his own, it made Jack groan into the Doctor's own pleasured cries, Jack sliding his right hand up the Doctor's pinstriped arm and wrapping his fingers in his perfectly messily-set hair. They groaned together one last time, and then the Doctor came. Then Jack came. The Doctor almost screamed. A deep, throaty scream; both of their eyes tightly closed, the Doctor's hand in Jack's hair pulling tighter as he felt the pressure slowly release. Jack breathed short and sharp, his eyes gradually opening, to look into the deep brown eyes of the Doctor, who looked a little panicked.

The Doctor swallowed, removing his hand, first from his trousers, leaving them unbuttoned; then from Jack's hair, sliding his hand down Jack's chest and stepping back. Jack stared, eyes a little wider than usual, lips parted and wet.

The Doctor cleared his throat and looked away as he noticed the Alchemist entering the room. He was a middle-aged man, probably in his fifties, dressed in a red cloak, and a deep blue jumpsuit underneath. Jack's eyes did not move from the Doctor's slightly flushed face until the Alchemist said, "Can I help you, Doctor? Jack?" looking up at the Doctor, then at Jack.

The Doctor cleared his throat again, then reached up and scratched the back of his head, and said, rather nervously, "Um, yeah – we were just looking for one of your ... remedy … things."

"Ah, yes. Of course. Anything in particular?"

Jack took one look at the Doctor, who was obviously quite edgy, and answered for him. "No, nothing in particular. Could you recommend anything?"

"Well, each remedy is perfectly attuned to the needs of the client. I'll see what I can whip up for the two of you." And with that, the Alchemist began to pour several rather colourful liquids into a saucepan that sat on one of the desks beside him. The Doctor gave Jack a glance that expressed gratitude, guilt, embarrassment and lust, all quite perfectly. And Jack understood.

The Alchemist worked quickly, and within a few minutes had filled small circular container with a thick blue gel, scooped out from the saucepan by a metal ladle.

He handed the container to the Doctor, who took it and sniffed it, before screwing the lid on.

"Uh – thanks. I, uh, hope you don't mind me asking… what is it, exactly?"

"One-of-a-kind. Self rejuvenating, instant healing powers, relaxes muscles, etcetera, etcetera. Similar to the massage oil they use at Areopolis 12. Should be perfect."

The Doctor smiled, twirling the pot in his hands. "But what _is_ it?"

The Alchemist leaned forward and whispered something in the Doctor's ear. The Doctor looked a little startled, and then glanced nervously at Jack, before stuffing the pot into his pocket, clearing his throat slowly.

Jack asked, curious, "Well, what is it, then?"

"Um. Nothing. Really."

Jack took a few steps towards the Doctor, reaching out. "Can I see it?"

"No, no. Really, it's nothing. Absolutely nothing," he said, leaning away from Jack's outstretched arm, grinning now.

Jack lunged at him, missing when the Doctor jumped out of the way. "Gimmie that!"

Jack chased the Doctor, who ran around the central table, avoiding him. "Nothing! It's nothing!" he practically yelled, laughing and grinning manically, as usual.

Jack caught him and pushed him up against a wall, searching for the pocket the Doctor had put the pot, both laughing. The Doctor gasped and bent his head back when Jack stuck his hand in what he thought was one of the Doctor's pockets.

Jack swallowed, and said, slowly, "That's not your pocket, is it…?"

The Doctor replied, just as level-headed, but really his hearts were racing. "No. No. it's not."

The Doctor's trousers were still undone. The Doctor let out a little whimper, finding it harder and harder to control himself. And harder and harder to control… other things. Harder and harder… and harder.

Jack retracted his hand tantalisingly slowly, perhaps on purpose. Then he pulled the Doctor's shirt down – slowly – and tucked it into his trousers, his fingers brushing everything it was possible to brush. The Doctor closed his eyes, savouring the moment. Jack, slowly as ever, buttoned up the Doctor's trousers, playing on each button, his fingers pushing on each a little; each movement causing the Doctor pleasure he hadn't felt in a long time.

Jack pulled away, turning to the Alchemist, who nodded them towards the door. "I've got customers waiting."

The Doctor and Jack walked to the door, and back through the hallway they'd come in through, holographic flaming torches lighting the way back to the reception. The receptionist charged them each twenty-four credits, which the Doctor paid both of, with his useful little unlimited-credit stick, charged up by the sonic screwdriver.

They left through the main exit, walking quickly back up the black-grassed hill, towards the Tardis. They didn't talk until the Doctor had unlocked the doors and they were both inside. And then they stopped, both a little uneasy. Neither kept eye contact with the other, but they both stood around for a while, trying to find words.

Finally the Doctor realised there was something he desperately needed to do, and was fair game in guessing that Jack needed it too. "I'm going to go take a shower," he said, looking up at Jack, who grinned sheepishly back at him.

"Yeah. Me too."

And they both wandered past the Tardis console and round the corner, still trying to avoid eye contact. They left each other at Jack's bedroom, where he went inside. When he was gone, the Doctor stopped, thinking. Oh, god. He was fantasizing again. He tried to save that for the shower, which he enjoyed, very, _very_ much.

The Doctor saw Jack about half and hour later, in the console room. The Doctor stopped before he entered, because he's seen Jack, who was wearing nothing but a towel. And – oh, god – it wasn't around his middle. It was draped over his shoulders, as Jack dried his hair. The Doctor breathed out slowly, closing his eyes, and braced himself. And he stepped out, into the console room, himself fully dressed in a clean suit and underwear. He swallowed at the sight of Jack, and dropped his gaze, feeling he was looking at something a bit inappropriate. He shouldn't be doing this.

"Oh –!" shouted Jack, when he realised that the Doctor was in the room with him. He immediately wrapped the towel around his waist, and had the good grace to look quite embarrassed. The Doctor looked the same, perhaps more so. He was very glad, at that moment, that Jack wasn't telepathic. But then again, Jack might like what the Doctor was thinking…

The Doctor grinned, and said to Jack, "Going to lunch. They're got these non-sentient-but-living crocodile-shaped chips on Salcatoori 57 – wanna come?"

"Oh man, do I wanna come…" Jack whispered, his voice deep and husky. The Doctor looked up from the console panel, wondering if Jack had misunderstood what the Doctor had meant by 'come', but then, he figured, this was just Jack. Mister Innuendo. Still, it aroused him. No, no, no! He couldn't think that! Stop it! He calmed a little, his hearts almost at their normal pace.

The Doctor gave a quick, breathy laugh, the smile sticking. "Okay then, off we go! Allons-y!" And he flicked twelve different levers within the space of a few seconds, and sent the entire cabin whirling out of Jack's perception, until the whole room came back in to focus, the floor juddering to a standstill. Jack was on the floor, legs apart, arms behind him, sitting up. The Doctor stood to his left, grinning and flicking a few levers and buttons before looking down. And when he did, he looked away instantly, biting his lip, eyes closed. Controlled breathing. Don't. Just _don't_.

Jack stood up and tied the towel around his middle, firmly this time. "Sorry," he whispered, half-smiling.

"'S okay," said the Doctor, looking sideways at Jack, biting back a huge grin. Good god, did Jack look good. Naked. "You should probably put some more clothes on – I don't think the Salcatoorians will take kindly to someone as handsome as you walking around with just a towel 'round your middle. You might distract all the crocodile-chip-servers." And then he grinned.

"Was that a compliment?" Jack asked, an odd expression on his face, that the Doctor couldn't quite place.

"Maybe," the Doctor replied, trying to look innocent and failing miserably. The huge grin gave it away. Jack chuckled and wandered off to get dressed, looking back once to meet the Doctor's eyes, making them both grin again.

"So, crocodile chips on Salcatoori 57. Should be fun," Jack commented, as he and the Doctor stepped out of the Tardis and into a crowded indoor courtyard. Purple humanoids, sitting at tables or wandering through the crowds, chatted amongst themselves, as the Doctor and Jack arrived in the food court, the Tardis' Chameleon Circuits doing their job perfectly. No-one noticed as they made their way to the stall with a massive sign that read "crocodile chips".

"Well, at least we know where to go!" The Doctor called to Jack over the loud murmur of the crowds. They ordered two portions of the chips, took their meals from the seller, and chose a table in the far corner of the court, where it was a little quieter so they could talk.

"So," said Jack, picking up one of the wriggling potato chips, which was snapping its jaws at him. He placed it in his mouth and chewed. And swallowed. The Doctor watched, mouth open, licking his lips. The crocodile that was wiggling furiously in his hand turned and bit squishily him on the finger, and he cried out in surprise and dropped it. Jack laughed, and made the Doctor laugh too, when he looked up. They slowly made their way through the plate of crocodile chips, which were constantly trying to escape, despite the guaranteed 'non-sentient' label the company put on their famous export. To keep them in were the cleverly designed plates, which were more like flat bowls, with tall edges that were too high for the crocodiles to climb.

The Doctor and Jack discussed the similarities and differences between the Salcatoorians and the Fluuus, which resided on the planet Ytterrr, a previously-visited food court planet. It provided them with a good debate for over ten minutes, both of them trying to overlook the fact that they were both majorly attracted to one another, despite how inappropriate it may feel, or whether or not the other was even aware of how they felt. The Doctor realised his feelings had become quite a bit more obvious to Jack throughout the day, and was dreading, and sorely anticipating, when he could embrace them for what they were. At the present, he was feeling a little awkward. Mostly because he was still trying to repress a rapidly increasing need to kiss Jack into oblivion – he could even kiss him to death and he'd come back. He smiled at that thought. Not that he'd do that. He just thought it was funny.

"You know, these things are kinda cool," Jack said through a mouthful of potato crocodile. "Mmm," he mumbled, licking his fingers. The Doctor hadn't eaten many of his chips – he was somewhat preoccupied with watching Jack. Jack cocked his eyebrow at the Doctor, watching his eyes linger on his lips. The Doctor was slouched with his head on his hand, his pinkie in his mouth, slowly licking and chewing it. "Doctor?"

"Mmm?" he said, eyes not moving.

"First, you're staring; and second – are you gonna eat those?" he asked, reaching his hand to the crocodiles which were now climbing on each others' backs to reach the top of the bowl. As his hand descended, two chips jumped up and caught his fingers, distracting the Doctor. He glanced at the little creatures, which more had now joined, all scampering along Jack's hand and up his arm. The Doctor laughed, amused. Jack was practically squawking in surprise – and then pain, as the things clambered inside his trousers and bit him, hard. They then ran down his legs and escaped out of the ankle of his trousers. He coughed in pain, then laughed coldly as he told the Doctor, "I've been bitten by crocodiles made of potato, in a place that it's generally very painful to be bitten. I'm having a good day."

A food court attendant hurried over to check on Jack, informing them of a room in the back where they could 'get this sorted out'.

"This happens quite often – they tell us they're not sentient, but then they do this. And they always go for the sensitive areas… almost like they're _learning_. Non sentient, indeed." He sighed irritably, then smiled kindly at the Doctor, and led them both out of the huge blue-black room, which was suddenly in uproar as twenty odd potato creatures began attacking diners' ankles at random.

The attendant led the Doctor and Jack to a small room with a black stone wall and a black glass divider between the door and a covered, expensive-looking single bed behind it.

"I can get you some healing things, some pain relief – anything you need. Happy to help."

"No, thanks. We're fine. We have some… stuff," the Doctor said, leading Jack, bent over double in stinging pain, to the bed.

"O-okay. I'm available if you need me. Ask for Hannn," he said nervously.

"Yep, thanks!" the Doctor said, looking back. Hannn left, and the Doctor turned back. He removed the Alchemist's pot from his pocket, and handed it to Jack, who obviously found it too painful to sit down.

"So, what is this stuff then? I know it was self-replenishing, and healing and all that, but what _is_ it?"

"It's… uh…" the Doctor trailed off. Jack looked at him expectantly, the stinging not so bad now. "It's lubricant." Jack smiled. "Specially suited to the customer's needs, eh?" and he chuckled. The Doctor looked up at him sheepishly and then grinned, biting his lip.

He cleared his throat, the said, "I'll just be round here, if you want me for something," and he disappeared behind the glass screen. Jack smiled at the Doctor's silhouette, leaning on the glass. Oh, he was so damn _sexy_. He wanted him for something all right.

Jack slid off his breeches and undid his light blue shirt, to better get at where the problem was. He unbuckled his belt and his trousers, and saw the Doctor's silhouette twitch at the sound of them coming undone. He slid the trousers off, removing his boots while he was at it, then carefully took his white boxers off, trying to avoid where the pain was. Light, stinging scratches ran along the entire length of his penis and the whole area around, and deeper scratches on and around both buttocks, from below his navel, extending to mid-thigh.

Jack unscrewed the lid of the lubricant pot, dipping his fingers into the gooey blue substance. Reaching down, he slid his hand along his length – and cried out in pain. _God_ it hurt. And he knew precisely why. And he knew how to do this so it didn't hurt. "Doctor!" he cried. The Doctor jumped out from behind the glass screen, as if he'd been hoping to be called out. He winced at the sight of the scratches on such a sensitive area, but he felt his own penis swell at seeing Jacks'. The Doctor let out a small breath, and then looked up.

"You okay?"

"Doctor, I can't do this. And… I know… why," he said, looking awkward.

"What is it?" the Doctor asked, calmly. He was trying hard to keep his hormones under control.

"I… can't do it… myself. I know where my hand is going to go. I need someone else to do it." He took a deep breath, then he asked, "Would you…?"

The Doctor smiled. "Of course." Jack smiled back.

Naked, Jack knelt forwards on the bed, on his hands and knees, blushing slightly under the Doctor's gaze. The Doctor removed his pinstriped jacket and threw it on a chair beside the foot of the bed. He removed his canvas shoes, then knelt behind Jack, rolling his shirt sleeves up and dipping his fingers in the healing lubricant, rubbing it between his hands.

"You ready?" he asked Jack, quietly, trying to hide his intense embarrassment.

"Ready," he confirmed, trying not to bring the position they were in to his own attention. He was already aroused, and the Doctor hadn't even touched him yet. He licked his lips, opening his mouth and breathed slowly. His heart was pounding. No other man had ever had this effect on him. He'd felt this way since he'd met the Doctor, and that was technically a year more than it was to everyone else, thanks to the Master. No other man had managed to keep a hold of his attention longer than a few weeks, if he didn't get together with them in that time. But the Doctor – oh, he was different. Captain Jack Harkness was actually in love. And here he was, about to have his arse lubricated, arousal rapidly growing – but it felt odd. This wasn't exactly the kind of circumstances in which he wanted to get together with the Doctor. Bitten by potato chips. Glorious.

The Doctor could see Jack's arousal through his parted legs, and his own penis was throbbing like mad. He wanted him. He really, really wanted him. He wanted to shag Jack senseless. This had gone beyond just wanting a kiss. Or even just wanting sex. He wanted Jack. He _needed_ Jack. He would always need Jack.

The Doctor rubbed his lubricated hands together one last time, and then placed one on each of Jack's perfect buttocks. Jack let out a shaky breath and relaxed under his touch. The Doctor slid his hands upwards towards the small of Jack's back, which elicited a loud moan from both him and Jack. The lubricated skin saw the instant healing of the deep scratches, instant pain relief for Jack. The Doctor's stiffened member was straining against the cloth of his trousers, and he was making a great effort not to buck his hips into Jack's backside. He moved his hands down the outside of Jacks hips, Jack breathing hard, hips slowly circling forwards and back; each backwards motion pushing harder against the Doctor's hands.

The Doctor then slid his hands around the bottom of Jack's buttocks, Jack opening his legs wider and groaning loudly, the loudest yet. The Doctor's right hand slid up to Jack's anus, pressing hard, making Jack moan and gasp, his hips grinding against the duvet fabric, his hand sliding to his throbbing penis, his weight balanced on his other fist. He gasped in pain when he touched himself, and pulled away, kneeling back on his hands and knees, as he was before.

The special lubricant was already relaxing the muscles around Jack's anus, and his opening was wide enough for the Doctor to slip a finger inside. But the Doctor pulled out after one quick thrust. He took Jack's shirt that lay on the bed beside them, and wiped the lubricant off Jack's skin.

Jack groaned and let his hips fall, but jerked up again with a gasp when his front touched the material beneath him; his front was still painful.

The Doctor wiped his hands on the shirt and let out a ragged sigh, falling back and kneeling on his heels. He tapped Jack's hip, and said, "Come on, turn over."

Jack flipped, moaning, "Oh, God." He lay; legs spread either side of the Doctor, the knee closer to the wall in the air, arousal plain for the Doctor to see. Jack looked down his body at the Doctor, and sat up, raising the other knee. He knelt forward, so the Doctor was trapped between his thighs, both of them kneeling.

The Doctor swallowed, trying to calm his twitching penis, and asked Jack in an unintentionally husky voice, "You want me to keep going?" Jack nodded, eyes flicking from the Doctor's arousal to his eyes, which were looking deep into his own, a red flush over both their faces. The Doctor smiled and put some more lubricant on his hands, rubbing them together.

The Doctor looked down and placed his steady hands on the inside of Jack's thighs, to which he reacted by tipping his head back and breathing out hard. The Doctor moved his hands up, closer to Jack's groin. "Oh –!" Jack whispered, his hands clutching the Doctor's shoulders and fingering the hair at the nape of the Doctor's neck.

The Doctor rubbed his hands over Jack's testicles, tenderly brushing the base of his penis, drawing out a light grunt from Jack. Jack let his head fall forward so his open mouth rested against the Doctor's forehead, Jack's groaning vibrating deep within the Doctor's head, intensifying the feeling. Jack bucked his hips gently; forcing his hardness into the Doctor's waiting hands, sliding the lubricant along his entire length. Jack then started to circle his hips, pushing his penis harder and harder into the Doctor's hands with each thrust. All the scratches that were on Jack before had all healed instantly, and now they just continued because it felt so _good_. Jack moaned and arched his back a little, his groin mere inches from the Doctor's, whose hands were between the two of them, still rubbing Jack's erection. Their breathing sped, the Doctor pressing his face into Jack's neck. He bit him gently, then suddenly pulled away. He grabbed the lubricant-covered shirt and wiped Jack's body clean. He started to pull himself off the bed, when Jack grabbed his hand.

"Doctor… don't stop," he begged, quietly, calmly. He gave a gentle tug on the Doctor's hand, who complied apprehensively, leaning back down towards Jack.

"Wait," the Doctor said, pulling back. He stepped away from the bed and reached his hand to his top shirt button, he undid it, then the next one, then the rest, gradually revealing his bare, skinny chest. He wanted this. Desperately. Jack watched, kneeling on the bed, stiffened member still throbbing. Jack reached down and touched it, sliding his hand along it. He stayed silent though, as the Doctor removed his shirt and took the collar in his mouth, then moving his hands down and unbuttoning his trousers, pulling them to the floor. Jack couldn't see, as the Doctor's body was hidden behind his shirt; the Doctor then pulled his navy boxers down, stepping out and pulling his shirt out of his mouth to cover only his genitals.

He went back to the bed and positioned himself so he was kneeling up in front of Jack, his shirt still in position. Jack knelt up too, so their faces were directly in front of one another, their breathing unsteady and catching every time. Jack looked down to see his own hardness brushing against the Doctor's shirt, which was covering his swollen cock, every inch of his body desperate. He extended his arm and pulled the shirt aside, and the Doctor let it fall away, their erections touching instantly, the Doctor's hands grasping Jack's hips, pulling him closer. Jack skimmed his hands up the Doctor's chest, across his shoulders and neck, drawing his fingers into the Doctor's thick brown hair. The Doctor pressed the side of his face against Jack's, the contact between them making him moan and sigh. Jack nipped at the Doctor's ear, his hot breath dancing across his jaw, as the Doctor had imagined. The Doctor bucked his hips into Jack's, their groins rubbing harder together, making them both gasp. Jack pulled his face away from the Doctor's cheek, moving his mouth closer to his. Their lips didn't quite touch but they shifted around each other, open and wanting. The Doctor gasped and groaned in one, as Jack touched his penis, and pressed himself into his hand. Jack began to pump his hand along the Doctor's length, and the Doctor almost crumpled in his arms as he suddenly became hot and feverish. He clutched at Jack's hip and shoulder, mouth open around his chin, breathing hard. He slipped his hand from Jack's hip to his groin and stroked him back; both of them crying out with pleasure.

Jack began to groan louder, writhing blissfully in the Doctor's firm grip. The Doctor imitated his deep vocalisations, their movements becoming better synchronised, their cries shorter, faster, closer together. The Doctor spread his knees a little more on the bed, allowing Jack to reach between his legs and draw out a long moaning cry as he came hard onto Jack's wrist and palm. Jack was almost at his climax – his penis twitched, and he came onto the Doctor's hand, breathing out a strangled groan.

They stayed still for a few seconds, not moving at all, other than their heavy breathing, then the Doctor relaxed back, sitting on his heels, picking up the soiled shirt and wiping come off their bodies. He went slowly around Jack's still hardened penis – the Doctor knew Jack had had an operation on Holideepo 9 that eliminated the refractory period; practically creating multiple orgasms (the Doctor had had it done too) – then went on to clean his own body, dabbing the shirt up and down, Jack watching intently.

Then the Doctor leant forward and kissed Jack, his head tilted on its side, eyes closed and mouth open. Jack kissed back, arm returned to the Doctor's shoulder, a thin trickle of come sliding down the Doctor's smooth back. The Doctor moaned into the kiss, slipping his hot tongue into Jack's mouth, their tongues twisting slowly at first, then speeding to a frenzied stroking, then wresting feverishly with each other as their kiss became more hurried and needier. Jack moved his mouth on and off the Doctor's, each short kiss more forceful, Jack breathing hard through his nose, the Doctor not breathing at all, it seemed. The Doctor rushed his hands through Jack's fine hair, finally pulling away, gasping for air, then pushing his mouth back to Jack's. Jack groaned loudly, tipping his head to the side and biting the Doctor's bottom lip, then flicking his tongue along his top lip. The Doctor's mouth opened and closed around Jack's firm but tender kisses, a hand moving from Jack's hair to his shoulder, then –

The Doctor pulled away. "Jack! Oh, god – Jack, what am I doing?!" He almost fell off the bed, grabbing his underwear when he got close enough. Jack knelt in a stunned silence, watching what he almost had slip away from him. And he didn't know why. "I'm sorry, Jack! I shouldn't be… Oh, god…" he turned back to Jack, who stared incomprehensively. "I'm not… I'm not _gay_, Jack. I can't be doing this. I can't be…" Jack pulled the stained shirt up to cover his exposed body, erection fading. He looked down at the bed, rejected. He gave a gloomy sigh. He knew this would happen. Why did he ever get his hopes up? Of course the Doctor wasn't gay. If he was, Jack wouldn't even have to _try_ to get him into bed. Jack and the Doctor. Pff. Jack scoffed, mentally. He looked up at the Doctor, who had halted his frantic dressing to look back at Jack. ~_I love you, Doctor. I love you.~_

"Oh, Jack," he said, quietly, seeing Jack's face, almost sighing. He dropped the trousers he was trying to turn back outside-in, and walked back to Jack, who was kneeling on the bed, his expression forlorn and hurt. The Doctor's own expression had softened considerably, and, wearing an unbuttoned shirt and loose boxers, he sat down on the bed. "How long, Jack?" he asked Jack, simply.

Jack looked up at him, deep brown eyes meeting bright blue ones. "Since I met you," he whispered, hoarsely. The Doctor swallowed and slowly held out an arm, inviting Jack for a hug. Jack complied, shifting himself to be next to the Doctor, the bed rolling their bodies closer than each expected. Their legs were pressed together, damp shirt still in front of Jack, the Doctor's arm tight around his shoulder. The Doctor leant his head on Jack, his hair brushing Jack's ear, nose against his shoulder blade. Jack turned his face to him and kissed the side of his head, his arm swooping close across their bodies and holding the Doctor's arm in a reassuring grasp.

"I'm sorry, Jack," the Doctor said in a low voice. "I'm sorry." And then he realised something. He lifted his head, Jack swinging his out of the way, as the Doctor kissed him again on the lips. Jack didn't respond for a second, taken aback. Then he caught the Doctor in a sweet, rolling kiss, their tongues sliding along each other, the Doctor's head turning back a little to let Jack in further. He'd never told Rose. He never felt that way for Martha. Donna was just a friend. But he was in love with Jack. So he told him. Jack smiled. He was about to say something … when the food court attendant walked in without knocking.

"Uh – … oh... I'm sorry…" Hannn said, eyes wide in sudden shock and embarrassment. "Should've… knocked. Uh – it's just that… your escaped crocodile chips have… freed the others, and they've taken control of the building. They, uh…" he trailed off, seeing Jack completely naked as he and the Doctor jumped up to dress themselves, the sudden shock and embarrassment evidently not limited to the attendant. When they were acceptably dressed, the Doctor stuffed a round plastic pot into a pocket, and the two rather flustered men (Jack topless, carrying a soiled shirt, breeches dangling), followed by Hannn, ran out of the back room and into total chaos as they reached the food court.

The Doctor flashed a grin at Jack, which he cheerfully returned, and together, they rushed off into the crowd, in search of another adventure on some odd little planet that the Tardis decided to land on.

The lubricant could wait until later.


End file.
